The Philosophy of Grey
a meditation on the subtle tones
Earlier this morning I needed to refill my fountain pen and went to select one from my shelf of inks. What to choose: Athena Grey, Moonstone, Fuyu Syogun (Old Man Winter), Silver Fox, Earl Grey, Old Stone Road… you get the picture. I think if most people were to choose from my selection they might find it boring, an entire shelf of shades of grey. With the entire rainbow available in the thousands of fountain pen inks out there in the shops, why grey? How different can a dozen shades of grey be to warrant collecting so many? Well, brew yourself a warm beverage, find a soft place to sit, and I’m going to try to tell you. It’s the subject (the philosophy of grey, that is) of my next book and today I felt like sharing a bit of it with you.Â
For me, grey is a colour that exists between extremes. It’s the colour of nuance and complexity. It’s the balance between black and white, where nothing is fully one or the other—just like life itself. Grey often symbolises neutrality, and the complexities of life that resist easy categorisation, the colour of ambiguity, of all those moments when things aren’t so crystal-clear, and you find yourself vacillating between extremes. It reminds me of how I often strive to live in the middle ground, where everything isn't always defined by simple answers or blanket statements. Of course, there are some things in life that demand the decisive polarity of good and evil, but mostly it’s shades of grey that we encounter. In this way, grey can be seen as a reflection of life’s nuances—the spaces between certainty and doubt, joy and sorrow, or simplicity and complexity, that luminous thread I’ve written about before, that spans the chasms and breadths, the spectrum, between one extreme and another.
When I think of grey, I can’t help but see it as a symbol of wisdom. Just like our hair greys with age, our minds can grey with the years, too. It’s that understanding that comes with experience, where some things aren't so much about right or wrong anymore, but more about seeing the shades in between. It’s not unlike when you've been through something painful in your life and suddenly truly know that life is full of nuances—joy mixed with sorrow, simplicity mingling with complexity. Pain commingled with beauty and sweetness. It’s where empathy grows, right? Where you see that not everything fits neatly into a box with a clear label. Philosophically, grey portrays the idea that truth and meaning often lie somewhere in the middle. It's the acceptance that life isn’t always defined by clear answers or absolutes. Experience often tempers the black-and-white thinking of youth with the shades of grey that come with age, understanding and empathy.
In my art practice, grey can be both soft and strong, subtle yet striking. It is where my artist soul dwells and most of my own personal work has evolved from within a palette of palest silver to deepest charcoal and inky black. The art throughout this essay is representative of the work I have done over the past so many years. You can find more on my personal artist’s page on Instagram @i_dream_in_grey.
You might think that working is greyscale is restrictive, but when I see a palette of greys I envision the rainbow. Physically, the colour grey is created by combining every colour of the spectrum, so, in its essence, it contains every colour. It can lean warm or cool, it can be neutral, and it is the perfect compliment to any other colour you can dream up. I will often add one small pop of a clear prismatic hue, and wow does it sing. I never grow tired of exploring the depths of grey.
Grey is a tone that requires my attentiveness to appreciate its depth and range, however. Like in life, grey asks me to look closer, to find the beauty in what might seem plain at first glance. It's the colour of shadow, of the in-between, where contrast creates dimension, roundness and perspective. Grey can shimmer with prismatic light and it can at the very next stroke echo with a darkling serenity. It can be so powerful. It’s not showy, but it draws the viewer in, and invites them to also look closer, to find the subtle beauty that isn’t always obvious. It can make the viewer a participant in the creation of what the piece represents and means to them, personally. My palette of grey feels like a reflection of how I approach my work—gentle, thoughtful, elegant, and always with a sense of depth that invites others to pause and really take things in, without the distraction and allure of vibrant colours.
Maybe embracing grey is like embracing the mystery of it all. It’s a colour that doesn’t demand answers but invites reflection. It really appeals to the part of me that appreciates a more Eastern way of viewing the world. I think that’s where so much of life’s richness is found—in those grey areas where we don’t always know the outcome, but we trust the journey anyway. Grey is the embodiment of mystery.
And now, I would love to know your thoughts on grey. Are you drawn to monochromatic works? How about black and white photography? I hope you will leave your thoughts below so we can continue the conversation.
This piece resonated deeply with me. The idea of grey as a space of wisdom, nuance, and the in-between is something I've often pondered. It's where we find empathy, where we learn to hold opposing truths, where we embrace the complexity of life. Your writing beautifully articulates this, and I'm left with a sense of quiet contemplation. Thank you for sharing your thoughts.
Kateri, your writing (as well as your artwork) is exquisite as well as thought provoking. These particular pages made me look at my younger self when I needed to see/feel most everything in definitive terms of black or white……The grey in between would have been too scary, too uncomfortable, too out of my control . Now, fast forward to many decades , I have learned to feel more comfortable in that grey, in between space. The place where you might find balance and growth and wisdom. Where you can succeed, where you can fail. Where you can be brave and where you can be afraid. But above all of the push and pull of emotions, you have permission to feel the feelings and that ownership is a very freeing and subtle place for acknowledging one’s personal growth. I love that we can all be work’s in progress.